Eyes of the Beholder
by SoulWithinTheFlames
Summary: Adam Lambert is an angel in Heaven, sent down to Earth to perform his Mission. But when he strays from the path with a "forbidden love", demons are sent down to Earth to destroy Adam's existence. Adam has to find a way to complete his mission and keep everything he loves from falling apart, including his forbidden love. WARNING: Male/Male. DISCLAIMER: I dont own Adam. :3
1. Chapter 1: Departure: Adam

Setting: Heaven, January 29th, 1982.

Adam's POV

Miracle approached me calmly with fluent movements, as she usually did, her wings gliding behind her. But this time, her eyes were only half open, making it appear as if she were tired. This only happened when she either wanted something of someone, or had to tell someone something they might not want to hear. I took in her young frame, the structure of her face, her long eyelashes. Her Glow was white, unlike all the other angels, and she carried it in a bigger cloud around herself than most, so that everyone would recognize her importance. Right; as if the angel with the white Glow isn't important; it's the one gifted characteristic given only to the Royal Angel.

Glows were something we used frequently to illuminate our inner instinctual emotions, even though we never felt these emotions in our hearts. We were told that these "seeds" of emotion were there only for when we had finished our Mission and became human, then these seeds would "grow" and become real emotion, but until then, somewhere deep in our hearts we knew what emotions we should feel, and it instinctually effected our Glow. We could control our Glow some of the time, which hung around our bodies like a mist. This was a blessing for us.

I kept my light blue-grey Glow loose and occasionally flowing, and no less than a few inches from my body, and extremely full of glitter, to show that I was feeling relaxed (indicated by the loose, close Glow) and that I was very much my own individual (indicated by the large amount of glitter inside my Glow. We're supposed to call it "shimmer", but I like Man's version of the word better.

I was told by everyone that I had more shimmer in my Glow than any angel they'd seen in a long time, but it never bothered me; it only made me more proud that I was noticed for being different. It felt liberating - like I was a million miles away from the order and structure of the Angel Guild... like I was down on Earth.

People down there were highlighted for being different; in good ways and in bad, but it always seemed to be so wonderful to be free like that. Like no one would ever replace you or forget you. Here, as an angel, you are pretty much forgotten when you were sent down to earth. Sad?—yes. But this was a result of the fact that it usually took a long time before the angel would become human, and the pass away to return here.

Some told me that my individuality, while not a problem in society here in Heaven, could turn out to be a problem when I was sent down to Earth, since humans had cruel emotions that could affect us negatively, but this wasn't news to us – I'd tough it out.

Still, we were definitely the lucky angels – we were the only Placement that got to go down to Earth, and were allowed to show all emotions, even though we couldn't feel them. A lot of the other angel Placements weren't allowed to show emotion aside from joy, since their only purpose was to serve Him here in Heaven.

Some were in the Gate Keeper Placement, others were in the Choir Placement, and some still were in the Light Tunnel Placement, welcoming the new souls into Heaven, and restoring their spirit-made body images to their preferred age, but yet were not allowed to show any emotion aside from joy.

The angels of my Placement were required to be able to show every emotion know to Man, as it was part of our training to go down to Earth. We were told the emotions would feel real only after our Mission was completed, and we were reformed into a human where we could stay on earth and continue our lives there until it ended, when we could return to Heaven.

I never understood what anyone meant by that – that we couldn't feel emotions - not until I realized that I was one of a few rare angels that could really feel human emotion as an angel. Of course, this made me want even more to be my own person, not the freak "special" angel most of the other angels in my Placement were expecting. I never wanted to do what was expected of me.

This was why I got a nasty feeling in my gut as Miracle approached me that our upcoming conversation wouldn't be a pleasant one – I never appreciated Miracle's higher-than-you commanding tone when she asked something of you – as if she was sure you could do it and that it would be done, even before she knew if you could. It made me want to rebel against her, and I knew Miracle could sense my discomfort. The smallest smirk would appear on her lips, as if resisting the urge not to pinpoint the emotions swirling in my brain, and enjoying the show as I silently seethed at her gentle pushiness.

She was one of five other angels besides me who could feel human emotion. She was required to – she taught every angel in our Placement how to show these emotions appropriately during their time as a masked angel.

At least she was gentle. She was almost always right about things, and had a way of making you see things in a lighter spectrum, so that things didn't appear so dismal, and she never held grudges. After all, she was the only angel to ever speak with Him, I suppose that was where she got her personality from. But there was always a small part of her that loved being above every other angel in Heaven, just for the mere fact of getting to watch every angel grow into what their Destiny meant for them.

As the Royal Angel, she got to personally read each and every angel's Destiny for herself, but was strictly forbidden to utter a single word of it to any other angel, which always bothered me slightly, knowing that she knew all the answers and all the secrets, the tales of all things that would happen to us, she had the power to warn us of such, yet she was obedient to Him, and never let on.

Anyways, I tried to look casual and unaffected as she gracefully glided up to me, her huge Glow nearly touching mine. "Greetings," she cooed gently, with a soft smile, her wings fluttering together, resting against her back, sending a slight breeze across my face. Her half-shut eyes were beginning to bother me. I wished she would open them so I could read her emotions.

"Greetings, Miracle," I said back with a pleasant smile, fluffing my wings in angst. "Is there something you need?"

"Mhm." She nodded gently. "You are acquainted with Farland, am I correct?"

She asked it as if she didn't know it, so I just nodded in return. He was a rather clumsy angel who took a lot of extra time learning emotions. I'd helped him out a few times – he just couldn't wrap his head around Empathy.

"Today was his scheduled Departure day. He is having some last minute troubles expressing emotions on the spot; I'm afraid he won't be able to Depart until he's retaken his training," Miracle soothed.

She was speaking much more softly than usual. I felt my eyes widen in their sockets. Retake Training? I could be human and back before he finished a second run. I felt a pang of Pity for Farland, but tried to shove it away so I could focus on what Miracle was saying.

"We will need you to fill his place. His family is expecting their first child today, and someone needs to be there." She smiled knowingly, "And I know you're just the one to such."

Of course she did. Miss High-and-Mighty over there knew everyone's Destiny. So I had to go, whether I liked it or not. But that wasn't entirely fair, I thought, as I began to panic.

I'd received my orientation files weeks ago on my family, Mr. and Mrs. Fayle. I was going to be their 5th child, their fourth boy, and be born in northeast Kentucky. I'd spent hours studying the entire 587 page orientation file, to make sure I knew just what I should expect.

My Departure was four days from now, and now I was being thrown into a completely different family within a few hours, and I'd have almost no time to read up on them and figure out what my actual life might be like. I was expecting a quiet country life on a tiny farm with a big, loving family of 7. I had no clue about these people I was going to be sent to.

They could be 40 year old meth addicts.

It could be a teenage girl living on the streets as a hooker.

I was suddenly very itchy to get the file and start reading. Miracle's gentle smile was starting to irritate me. I couldn't argue with her; whatever she says goes, but I still just wanted to read the orientation paper, since I wasn't going to have a choice.

"Why me?" I asked, just to have something to say to show I wasn't entirely in agreement with what she was asking of me. You can't even say it was "asking" – she wasn't going to give me a choice. I felt my Glow tighten around my body, and struggled to keep from flapping my wings in frustration.

"You are displeased by this," Miracle said, ignoring my question.

I didn't know what I was supposed to say back to her; she was right. Her Glow wavered around her body for a moment – she was trying to appear unthreatening, since she knew I wouldn't be happy. But why point out the obvious?

"Yes," I said, keeping my eyes locked with hers, "I am. This doesn't seem at all fair to me, I'm wondering why it is that I am to go." I tried to force my Glow to appear loose, as if I were calm, but it remained a more solid shade of royal blue, tight around my body. I didn't want her to see the silent screams of rebellion I was trying to hide my eyes, but it was no use – she saw everything.

"You are to go because it is you who is meant to, not anyone else. If anyone else were to go, it would not align with Destiny." I had known she would say that. But I wanted more than that, I wanted her to explain to me how exactly it wouldn't align with Destiny, even though I knew she couldn't. I looked away to avoid giving her a stare of annoyance that I knew she wouldn't appreciate.

When I looked back up, there was something new in her eyes, something that I'd never seen before. It was something that was not allowed in an angel's eyes, yet still it was there, is if not by choice but by uncontrolled emotion. She tilted her head in a caring way, looking aside for a moment. This was something I'd never seen her do before – she never showed any break in her confidence and wise attitude.

I felt my face crinkle with curiosity and concentration as I tried to read the emotion in her eyes. My red hair hung in my face a bit, blocking some of her face, and I wanted to move it by shaking my head, but I was afraid any sudden movement might cause her to put her walls back up so that I could no longer see what she had in her eyes.

Then, it hit me.

_Vulnerable_.

_Sadness_.

Two things angels should never express. Her Glow seemed to fade a bit, and it appeared almost fragmented, and I started to worry. I was careful choosing my words.

"If everything must align with Destiny, what is to become of my previously planned family?"

Instantly, the look in Miracle's eyes vanished, and she stood tall once again when she replied, "Their child will not survive. It has to be this way. It must go as He planned."

She stared into me. I didn't like the feeling of her being so close to my emotions – it didn't feel right. Oddly enough, I noticed that her white Glow had not changed since when I'd noticed the Vulnerable and Sadness in her. Perhaps it was something she chose not to control, for my sake, trying to make it seem like she really wanted for me not to be upset with her.

I looked to the ground, the white brick path I'd sat upon since the previous night. I felt Pity in my heart for the family, and longed to sit with them and mourn in silence with them. It would hurt to lose the one they were expecting to receive. I realized: they were in the same boat as I was. I was supposed to be their child, and now I was being thrown into something totally different and unexpected – literally – and they weren't expecting to lose the child they thought they'd watch grow up and become a Man. It was a sad surprise for the both of us.

"May I at least receive my orientation file then?" I asked as softly as I dared.

"There is not time," Miracle said with a slight head shake and a flick of her eyelashes. I felt light hitting me as I turned away to stand up; it was her hand on my shoulder.

"Come," she whispered to me, "Destiny wouldn't want you to miss your Departure." .


	2. Chapter 2: Departure: Miracle

Setting: Heaven, January 29th, 1982

Miracle's POV

It seemed poetic: Adam would go to the family he belonged with no matter what, but the circle of things never failed to tease my eye – it was enjoyable to watch how things fell into their place, and feel the balance of the universe in my hands. That's what I loved about everything I did, and now, watching Adam innocently falling into his place, made me smile inside with pride.

However, the deepest parts of my soul that knew Adam was different started to poke out like needles, pushing piercing waves of Sadness into my realm. I could have easily blocked these things altogether from Adam, but for him, knowing he had real emotions, I let his eyes taste what was behind mine, to get a sense that I cared about his Happiness.

That's the worst part about being the Royal Angel; you are aware of every angel's Destiny, good and bad. As much as a heart feeling emotion wants to protect and nourish the things it cares for, it must also have an awareness of innocence and balance, and the importance of not disturbing either within another. But what becomes of it all when keeping the balance causes imbalance? That's one of the harder things for me to accept, as my entire being relies on balance, and how I maintain it.

Adam seemed not to mind my hand on his shoulder as I led him down the while brick path. We could have easily flown there, but it was an unspoken agreement between us that we would walk, like old friends, to the Sanctuary of Departure – the building made of shimmering white marble and golden doors – that were to be every angel's final view of Heaven before they were sent down into the cruel world.

Adam's Glow tickled my fingers as it moved like rolling waves around his body. He was relaxed: this was good. A lot of angels taken to Departure have Glows that are tight up against their bodies, even though by definition they cannot feel fear, a deep part of an angel's soul is in tune with what emotions would be present had they had the capability to feel them in their heart – a characteristic that allows emotions to occur in their hearts after their transformation into a human.

I enjoyed Adam for this – with him, emotions were real, not a silent slit in his soul that carried the seeds of instinctual emotions that would only exist when he'd become human. The shimmer in his Glow never faltered, not even for a moment. Sometimes, when he was upset, it seemed even more shimmery than usual.

Adam seemed a bit out of tune for a little as we walked on, until he finally straightened up and asked as confidently as he could, "May I have a description of my new family?"

He said it so politely, I noticed, but he sounded a bit like myself; like he was expecting the description no matter what, but had to make it sound polite and not disrespectful. I smiled.

"The mother's name is Leila. She is young, and you are her first child, born to her and her husband Eber. You are to be born in Indianapolis, Indiana," I recited from memory.

Adam gently nodded, his expression blank. I didn't bother to try and interpret this; best to leave him to think about it.

As we neared the Sanctuary of Departure, I removed my hand from his shoulder to give him a few moments to himself. I waved the doors open, and lead him inside.

After passing through a thin hallway with floors, walls, and ceilings made of white marble, we entered a large dome chamber, big enough to house every angel in the Angel Guild. It looked similar to human stadiums, only there were no seats, only rows upon rows of barred off platforms that stretched the entire circle shape of the dome.

There was no one there, and Adam's gentle footsteps softly echoed back to him in tiny whispers. His blue Glow reflected off the silver that made up the entire area. His head moved back and forth slowly, taking in everything, while I just watched his amazement out of the corner of my eye.

In the center of the arena, there was a small silver pool, filled with five inches of water. In the center of the pool, the water spiraled down into a whirlpool. The pool's six-inch circular walls were studded with flakes of gold and chips of diamonds.

I stopped Adam as we reached the start of the walkway down to the Departure Pool, and said to Adam, "You can wait here, and I will walk down. As soon as you are ready, come forth. You step into the Departure Pool. What will happen when you do that is uncertain. When it is time for you to go, you may go."

Adam's eyes were glued on my face, and I could feel him taking in every detail of what I was saying. I walked ahead of him, down the path, as gracefully as I could. As I reached the pool, I attempted to keep my mind free of the thoughts of what was about to happen as best as I could, but they itched at the back of my mind, begging to be attended to. I shoved this aside and focused on Adam.

I watched him taking in the walkway; the wooden torches that stood 10 feet tall, made of the wood of the very first trees He created. Tiny sections of the Scripture were inscribed in the wooden pillars in calligraphy, done by the angel Gabriel. Adam seemed fascinated by the fire on top of the torches; he couldn't pull his eyes away from them.

He took his time walking down the path, unlike most angels, who carelessly strutted down the path into the pool. There was such a difference between him and other angels. Even the four other angels besides him (and myself) weren't as in-tune with their surrounding as he was. He took in everything, savoring it, holding it in his eyes and his mind, before letting it go. This didn't give him any special powers or knowledge – it just made him more interesting to observe and learn from. It was like he himself was already a human.

_That_ was it.

That's what I'd been struggling to figure out with Adam for so many years. I could never find the right words to describe how he was different, until now, watching him graciously advancing towards me in his final moments in Heaven as an angel. Now, it was impossible to stop my mind from wandering into the images of what he was about to go through and what I would have to watch him go through – a departure like no other. I nearly had to swallow my heart as I watched Adam place his small foot into the shimmering water of the Departure Pool.


	3. Chapter 3: Departure: Adam

Setting: Heaven, January 29th, 18982

Adam's POV

As I gazed up at the top of the torches, my eyes locked on the fire. I loved to watch the flames leap and dance, so carelessly. They seemed to have a mind of their own. Right then, I wished I could be up there with them, dancing away, so wild and free. But, as much as those flames were free, they too were trapped. As much as they were free to dance and leap as much as they pleased, they couldn't leave the top of that torch, they couldn't get away. It was as if they were prisoners, dancing in their cell.

I felt like I could just keep walking forever, and never reach the Departure Pool, but within seconds, there it was, in front of me. I glanced up at Miracle for barely a fraction of a second, but I couldn't help noticing how helplessly old she looked, like someone had added 20 years to her within minute it took me to come down the walkway. She normally had the looks of a 20 year old human, but now, she looked like a tired 40 year old, struggling internally, trying to accept that life was half over and carry on. Though, for Miracle, life would never end, so I couldn't pinpoint what it was that was making her look this way.

The wall of the pool was beautiful, but I didn't want to waste time gawking at it; the water inside the pool looked even more inviting; clear and glistening, and was practically begging for my feet to step into it. The second my toes touched the surface, the entire body of water swirled silver, like liquid mercury. I swallowed hard, wandering if that was supposed to happen. I looked to Miracle, and her eyes were unchanged; this was normal.

The water was warm. As soon as I had placed both feet in the water, I had the impulse to kneel down and touch the water with my hands, to let the liquid glide through my fingers. As my fingers caressed the water, they began to tingle. I noticed that my Glow was so tight around my finger, that it appeared flat against my skin, dying it a light blue-grey. It scared me for a moment – I'd never seen or heard of anything like it.

I tried to pull my hand out of the water, but it was like I'd stuck my hand into a pool of thick glue, and I couldn't pull it away. I tried to pick my feet up, and the same thing happened; I was stuck. I flapped my wings in distress, and looked up at Miracle for help. Her expression was pained and scared, but she remained motionless.

I widened my eyes, and opened my mouth to call out for help, but nothing came out. I began to panic. I opened my wings all the way, and flapped them as hard as I could to lift myself out of the pool, but instead of rising out of the pool, began to sink. I pulled and struggled and fought the water's pull as much as I could, my mind racing.

This wasn't supposed to happen. Why wasn't Miracle helping me? How could she just stand there and watch? I wanted to let out a whimper, to help draw some Sympathy out of her, but I couldn't make any noise. I was getting angry, and I was sinking further.

The pool was so shallow, but I was in up to my knees, with my hand still stuck. How was that possible? The water was getting closer to my face, and it latched onto a few strands of my hair. I raised my free hand above me to keep it from getting stuck, right as the water touched my nose. My wings caught in the water, my face about to be buried, I let myself go and submitted to the water.

Once I was underneath the swirling water, I found that I could still see and breathe, and tested my lungs to make sure they still worked. Every inch of my body was tingling, and I thrashed around trying to make it stop. Then I noticed: my Glow. It was so tight around my body that I was entirely light blue. I touched my face, my stomach, and my arms, and pulled it my skin, hoping to somehow peel it off, but it wouldn't budge. I squirmed and wiggled and tried to cry out, but there seemed to be nothing I could do. I was helpless. I felt like a floundering fish. All I could do was lay there underwater and wait for whatever was going on to come to an end. All of a sudden, the tingling transformed into stinging, on every inch of my body. I was being stabbed, invaded – but by what – my own Glow?

And then: **_BAM_**. All the pain was gone, and my insides suddenly felt as light as a feather. With every breath I took, it felt as if I were breathing in clouds. I was so confused and disheveled; I wasn't sure what to do. More than anything, I wanted to get out of the pool.

It seemed like I was fifty feet underwater, so I flailed my arms around me, fighting to the surface. My wings flapped and fluttered, pushing me upwards. It took only seconds for me to surface. I scrambled for the edge of the pool, and pulled myself up as fast as I could, throwing myself on the ground outside the pool. Then, remembering that Miracle was standing there, I frantically tried to stand up, pushing myself off of the pool wall. I couldn't get myself to stand upright, so I bent over, kneeling, using my arm to brace myself against the pool wall. I could feel myself dripping with the silver liquid, and squinted as it dripped from my hair, onto my face. My breathing was heavy, and I could feel my back and my wings moving with every breath, but I couldn't shake that weird feeling inside of me, I felt like I was breathing glitter and mist.

Wait… glitter…mist… my Glow. I glanced around my naked body, searching for it, but it was nowhere, and my skin wasn't blue. That's when it dawned on me: my Glow was **_inside_** of me.

I instantly went into panic mode, and started shaking, frantically groping my body, squeezing, pulling, searching for a way to get it out. I thought, _I have to find an opening… I have to pull it out!_ I reached into my mouth with my fingers, but my hand prevented me from going in too far. My fingers spasmed in my mouth, desperately trying to rip out my Glow.

It was useless; my Glow was inside of me, and I couldn't get it out. A wave of anger swept over me as I glanced behind me at Miracle. I glared at her, burning her face with my eyes. But then my eyes settled on something I'd never seen before: long golden lines running down her face, coming from her eyes, reaching down to her nose and her chin, sometimes stopping halfway in between. I knew what they were, but I'd never seen an angel bear them before. I sat there, panting on the floor, studying this, waiting for her to say something, but she remained silent.

Her face was tight, like she was clenching her jaws together. Her Glow appeared broken, and she looked like she was 80 years old. Her white wings were folded around her body like a robe, covering her body as she shook violently, though she made no noise. Her eyebrows were bent in, and her nose was scrunched up, golden droplets clinging to her eyelashes – the picture of Sadness.

For a long time, I sat there, staring at her, boiling with anger, my mind swirling with confusion. She turned her head so her eyes wouldn't have to meet my eyes when she finally spoke:

"Your Glow… it is now inside of you. You are ready now." She sucked in a big breath through her nose, and it sounded awful.

I couldn't even think of what to say. Before I could piece anything together, I said, "Was that supposed to happen?"

Miracle nodded. "But only for you…" she whimpered, "Because you are special… because you feel emotion. It is to help you." She sounded like she was choking on the words.

I stared at her in disbelief. The next thing that came to mind was, "So you knew that would happen. What—why didn't you help me?"

Her Glow seemed to fall apart. "I could not!" she pleaded with me, "I could not have helped you even if I tried."

I hung my head, panting. I didn't know what to say.

"But you are okay! It is all to help you, Adam, it's a good thing! You need not be scared or worry."

"Not scared?" I retaliated, "My Glow just… went inside me… and I just shouldn't worry? Tell me why." It felt weird to hear the words coming from my own mouth.

Miracle looked and the ground, shook her head, and struggled to meet my eyes. "Because… because it will help you. It will help you in more ways than I could ever explain to you."

More golden lines appeared down her face, and her eyes pleaded desperately with mine.

"Now stand. You have to depart now." She motioned for me to stand up, and offered me her tiny hand to help me, and I took it. Her Glow felt hot on my skin, but it looked so badly fragmented. She held my hand as I, for the second time, stepped into the Departure Pool. (How many other angels can say that?)

I approached the small whirlpool in the center, and stared down it, so omniscient and inviting. I focused everything on the deep whirlpool, as if it were the only thing that existed.

Locking my mind onto it, I was aware that it was glowing with a pure white light.

It was beautiful. I couldn't pull my eyes away; every cell in my body was drawn to it. I let the light fill my heart, and before my eyes, I saw the somewhat blurry images of I woman's face, lit up, looking into my eyes. My ears detected the words, "He's coming! He's so beautiful, you can do this!"

I felt the wet and stickiness, and my head being supported from underneath by a large hand.

All the while, I was still aware of my presence in Heaven; I wasn't quite through yet, but I felt my eyes glowing, the same Glow that had once been inside of me, now shining through my eyes.

My entire being was longing to leave. I saw Miracle's face in front of me, her eyes shining golden and bright with tears of joy. The only word that came to my mind when I saw them: _Love_.

To my surprise, I felt soft, damp skin on my cheek: Miracle had softly kissed me goodbye. My entire body flooded with warmth.

And with that, I let go of Miracle, and of Heaven, and went into my new life.


	4. Chapter 4: Arrival: Miracle

Setting: Heaven, January 29th, 1982

Miracle's POV

I couldn't believe myself. I was crying over an angel's Departure, something I'd only ever done once before, when He Himself was sent down to Earth, 2012 years ago. 2012 years without shedding a single tear. I was almost furious at myself. The tears came, and I didn't stop them, and I should have. It was the Royal Angel' job to remain a firm, solid rock for all other angels, and I'd stood there and crumbled in front of Adam.

When he'd let go of my hand, and vanished into the whirlpool, I first thought that my tears were of Happiness, seeing his entire being glowing with Joy and Anticipation, ready for what lie ahead, never Happier.

But, once he'd gone, and the whirlpool swelled open to reveal the live images of Adam re-entering the world, and I saw the nurses' Relieved smiles, their tears of Happiness, something in my mind clicked. My tears did not match the nurses'. My tears stung in my eyes, my entire body wracked with them. I was crying of Internal Pain. It hurt to see Adam go.

Yet, I couldn't look away from watching Adam's birth. His cry rang in my ears like music. I longed to be one of the nurses, who held him so carefully in their arms and fussed over his wet, naked body, wrapping it in a light blue-grey cloth, the same color as his Glow had been.

I found myself clutching a handful of feathers from my wings, and it startled me. I let them fall to the ground. One landed in the pool, and the silver water flushed back to its natural clear state. For some reason, that jerked even more tears from my eyes, and I wished I still had them to hold onto.

I smiled as Adam was handed to his mother, Leila. Her face was red and tear-streaked, and her husband hovered over her like a bee, petting her hair, touching her shoulder, and kissing her face.

That reminded me of what I'd done to Adam the moment before he dove into the whirlpool. I replayed it all in my head: his entire face lit up, the light blue shine in his eyes, silver streaks of water on his face that had dripped off of his strawberry blonde hair, my eyes blurring with tears, the smile on my face that had felt as if it would tear my face in half, the feeling of Adam's strong fingers around my hand, my sudden impulse to lean forward and remind his that he would be okay.

His warm, soft cheek beneath my lips.

I was instantly filled with Shame. I couldn't possibly have done that – it was a dream. My mind raced with excuses to cover it up, to hide what I'd done from my mind, but I could not, and the truth screamed in my ears, covering the sound of Adam's crying.

I stopped myself. I envisioned a wall crashing down around me, blocking all emotions and unwanted thoughts. And just like that, I was in control once more.

I straightened myself up, and look one last look at Adam, his mother and father crying tears of joy over his little swaddled body. Before I was able to lose control over myself again, I waved my hand over the whirlpool, and the images of Adam and company disappeared.

I ruffled my wings to loosen my muscles, and made my way out of the Sanctuary of Departure. It would be difficult and require tremendous amounts of effort, but I could block the last 30 minutes of my 1982 year life from my mind for as long as I needed.


	5. Chapter 5: The Early Years: Adam

There are two parts to this chapter, just a heads up (:

Part 1:

Setting: Earth, 1982-1993

The beginning of my life was nothing out of the ordinary, in terms of events. I was born in Indianapolis, Indiana, but moved to San Diego when I was an infant, so I always knew San Diego as my home. I loved it there; the diversity of people, the great opportunities… but still, something always felt off, in a sense. Like the town was too big for me, and I was just dying to be everywhere.

I was what one might call a strange child; always playing dress up, putting on costumes, pretending to be someone or something else, for the thrill of imagining. I used to drive my mother up the wall, always getting into her makeup and wanting to put it on.

I passed the time listening to my parent's music – it was always so inspiring to me, to hear other people's interpretations of the world. Among my favorite artists were Madonna, and I just fell helplessly in love with her; her music, her style, everything about her.

I had so much energy, and I never knew what to do with it. It got me into a lot of trouble. That's when my parents decided to put me in an acting group. Instantly, I fell in love with it. I could let my emotions run wild, I could be whomever I wanted, and escape reality for a while. Being a kid was great, I had so many memories of having fun with my parents, watching my baby brother Neil grow up, feeling those special emotions you only get as a kid that you have no idea where they came from… I loved the feeling of it, even though I didn't remember yet who I was.

That's one of the hardest things about being sent down to earth: for the youngest years of your life, you don't remember that you're an angel, mostly for your own protection. But, once you hit what is known to humans as "puberty", you remember. You remember it all, and that's when you start seeing your Mission.

For some, completing their Mission takes a matter of days after they remember who they are. For others, it takes them well into their elderly years. I always felt Pity for the angels that took so long to complete their Mission – they didn't get much of a chance to live life with real emotions. It made me grateful to be who I was. I had an advantage, and it wouldn't matter how long it took me to complete my Mission in my mind, because I could already feel human emotion; I wasn't missing out on anything.

I realized my sexuality when I was in 6th grade. A boy named Peter, in my class, with the swampy brown eyes and a million freckles was the one who made me realize it. He always seemed to be looking at me in class, until I realized that I sat right in front of the clock. Somehow, his seemingly constant gaze at me sent shivers along my spine and in my chest. For a while, I thought I was bisexual, since I'd had feelings for girls before. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that I would never be happy with a girl, and I could only see myself with guys. So, fuck bisexual; I was just gay.

My human emotions got me into a lot of trouble that angels normally wouldn't get into, though. A child in my first-grade class had this crazy obsession with tearing out my hair, because "it was orange and looked wrong", so he chose to deal with it by ripping at my head whenever he got the chance. I thought this was perfectly normal, for some odd reason, although I never did it to anyone else, because their hair always looked like it fit them, in the eyes of an innocent child who didn't know what it was to hate.

So I let him rip away at my head, even though it hurt. I started to get patches on my head where it looked like I was starting to go bald, so my parents got worried and took me to the doctor. The doctor told us that because my scalp was red and inflamed, it was most likely an allergic reaction, or the result of my hair being ripped out. The doctor knelt down and put her hand on my knee, asking me if I ever pulled my hair out.

I answered, "No, but Dylan does at school."

After that, my parents had a long talk with me about how wrong it was to have someone else hurt you or tear you down like that. They sent a note in to the teacher, and Dylan and I were immediately separated…

…But only until the next day at recess when he started pulling at my hair again. This was when I started listening to my mother about not letting other people hurt you.

So I told him, "You can't hurt me like that. My mommy said so." Dylan didn't agree.

"Yeah I can," he snarked at me, "Cuz I wanna." He ripped at my head again with his chubby, sweaty fingers.

"No," I said, my hands on my hips, "You can't 'cause it's me and I like my hair."

"No, I can, cause I HATE your hair!" and Dylan grabbed an entire fistful of my hair.

The pain shot into my skull, and I whined in pain. Dylan didn't mind, he was having a blast dragging me all over the place and watching me helplessly stumbling after him. Eventually, I tripped over my own feet, and ended up on the ground.

I felt the anger pulsing through me, and, without hesitation, I reached out for Dylan's meaty leg, and pulled my face toward it, and bit it. It tasted gross, like dirt and sweat, but I shut my eyes and held on. Dylan yelped, and kicked me in the back. I let go, and he ran off, crying with the same whining cry as a two year old, piece of my hair raining from his fingers.

That never would have happened, had I not had real emotion.

I used my emotions well in my childhood theatre productions and performances. My family was Jewish, so naturally, I sang in church all the time, and grew comfortable with my voice. It was soon apparent to my family as well as myself, that I had a pretty decent voice. After performing at my church, I received so many compliments on my voice, that my mother signed me up for private vocal lessons.

It felt like I'd finally found a place. I'd never fit in with any of the sporting cliques in elementary school, and I'd never been very into math or literature. All I wanted to do was make believe.

In a child's mind, reality isn't really reality; it's where they stay until they can escape back into their own little world that was made up of whatever they wanted it to, and they can be free there. But I didn't want that. That "place", that little "world" that I went to? -I wanted it to _be_ my reality.

So I decided to make that happen. And thus was born my desire to perform.

Part 2:

Setting: Earth, May 24th, 1996

It was difficult getting my mother to let me leave the house, but once I'd accomplished that, it would be easy from there. I was 14, and one of my older friends had invited me to hang out. She was a senior in my high school, and I wasn't about to miss an opportunity to hang with one of the seniors. I biked to the beach, a few miles away, and met her at the pier. Her hair blew in her face, long curly black fluffy waves over her face. She had her hand on her hip, like she'd been waiting a long time, but I was even a little early. I through my bike recklessly into a bike rack and ran up to her.

"There you are!" she said, punching my shoulder. "Let's go—up there."

She pointed to the top of a dune a little ways down the beach. I didn't really want to go up there, but it was BJ's word against mine, and if I didn't start moving, she'd use all of her nicely-toned track-running muscles to make me.

"Why up there?" I asked as I started walking across the sand, BJ's flip flops flinging sand onto the back of my legs.

"You'll see when we get there," she said cheerily, needling me in the back to make me move faster.

Once we'd reached the top of the dune, she looked to me and said, "Now was that so hard?" and waltzed past me and planted her ass in the sand. Grains of sand stuck to her legs showed up nicely against her dark brown skin.

"No, but why are we up here?" I asked, plopping down next to her after she patted the sand next her.

She didn't say anything; she just smirked at me from under her thick black eyelashes, and reached into her pocket.

"Now, you watch what I do, and then you do it." She held up the long roll of paper and leaves to her face, and put it between her lips. She lifted her lighter and quickly lit it, and took a long puff, and blew the smoke out the corner of her mouth.

"Your turn," BJ whispered to me, and expertly flicked the cigarette out of her mouth and held the end to me. I reached forward and grabbed it in my fingers, getting nervous about it. I made the mistake of glancing up at her before putting it between my lips.

"Go on," she urged, jerking her chin at me to encourage me.

Looked at the smoking object in my fingers, and placed the butt between my lips, and took a slow drag off the cigarette. It felt weird, having this strange substance fill my lungs, and tried to stifle a cough, but it came out awkwardly as a sputtering squeal. BJ laughed so hard that she rocked back and forth in the sand. I forced myself to laugh to.

"So much for being manly about it," I joked between coughs.

BJ wasn't done: "Nice try. Do it again, it gets easier."

I took another drag on the nicotine filled paper, and was able to avoid coughing this time. When I blew the smoke out of my mouth, she smiled satisfactorily, and took the cigarette from me and finished it in a few expert puffs. She shoved the butt into the sand and buried it.

"You ever kissed a girl?" she asked me, wrinkling her face. I suddenly got even more self conscious and I shook my head at her, acting like it was no big deal.

"Ha, well kid, you're going to have to learn. Hold still Ginger."

She leaned over and boldly grabbed my neck and pulled me to her lips. It took me by surprise, and I squeezed my eyes shut. I felt her pull away, and I felt pretty good about myself: I'd just kissed a girl. But the look on her face made my self confidence deflate instantly.

"Don't squeeze your eyes shut. But don't have 'em open either. Just shut 'em," she coached, and planted her lips on mine again.

Her huge bottom lip fit perfectly in between my bottom lip and her chin. She didn't stay like that for long; she started kissing with her mouth open slightly, and somehow, I knew to slide my tongue into her mouth. It felt nasty at first; slimy and gross, but I kept at it. She tasted like cigarette, and I could feel my tongue exploring her mouth, and her tongue following mine.

I felt her reach down and grab my hands, placing them on her waist. I felt her slow breathing in her powerful lungs underneath my hands. She slid her tongue away and flicked my teeth before biting my bottom lip. She was gentle but firm, and it felt so delicious.

I wanted to keep going, but BJ had decided that it was over. She walked me back to my bike in silence. When I reached my bike and pulled it out of the bike rack, she reached down to kiss my cheek, staring into my eyes with her dark brown ones, and ruffled my flop of orange hair before running back down the pier, shouting "Good luck Ginger," back at me as she glided away.

I hopped on my bike, feeling pretty good about myself. But, as I peddled down the busy San Diego streets, I couldn't help from thinking: if that's what kissing a girl felt like, I could only imagine what it'd be like to kiss a boy.


	6. Chapter 6: Time To Remember: Adam

Setting: Earth, June, 1996

Adam's POV

It came at an awkward time when I wasn't really ready for it, but I guess it was meant to happen the way it did; the process of remembering happened.

I was 14, only a few weeks after my first kiss, and I was taking a shower. My back wouldn't stop itching, no matter how hard I scrubbed it. I thought I must have had a rash, so I let it go until I'd gotten out of the shower.

I stood in front of the mirror in the bathroom, and looked at my back. But it was not a rash I saw; it was tons of tiny grey lines all over my back. When I reached behind me to touch them I found that they were raised off of my skin, like someone had glued them there. When I put my hand back down at my sides, it happened.

There was a flash, and all I saw was silver—swirling silver, and a light bluish grey. Another flash, and I saw my own reflection in the mirror again, and I could hear the blood pounding in my ears.

I just stared at my own refection, and my mind raced. Was I losing my mind, or did that really just happen? I didn't know what to think. Maybe I hallucinated? I tried to ignore it and carry on with getting into my pajamas and getting in bed.

I was almost afraid to fall asleep, but I did anyway. The insane itching on my back woke me up twice during the night, and it was hell trying to sleep again.

In the morning when I inspected my back, I found there were many more grey lines, and that they'd all risen off of my back a little more and were more noticeable, like they'd gotten thicker.

I was debating telling my mother, when there was another flash. And there she was: a stunning angel, glowing immensely, her mouth moving as if she were talking to me. Her presence was warm and radiant, and I wanted to open my mouth and speak to her, but the moment I moved my lips, there was another flash, and I was in front of the mirror once more.

I was scared now. This was so strange. I tugged on a shirt and rubbed some itching cream into my back. I wanted to tell my mother, but if it had anything to do with those hallucinations, it wasn't a good idea; she'd think I was on drugs.

I managed to survive a day at school without clawing at my back all day, even though if I could have, I would have danced around the entire school scratching at my back.

By the time I got home, I was about ready to tear off every inch of flesh on my back. I slid my back across the carpet, just trying to get some relief. I was afraid to look in the mirror again.

I was nearly crying—the itching was so intense. I didn't think I could take it anymore. I stood up in front of the mirror, tears falling from my eyes.

_What did I do to deserve this?!_ I pleaded with God. I tugged my shirt off over my head, and stumbled over to the mirror. What I saw stunned me. Was it just me, or did those tiny grey lines look like… _feathers_…?

I ached to tear at my back as it started twitching. I was expecting another flash but it never came. Instead, it occurred to me; the itching was no longer inching; it was External Pain.

It stung my back, and burned my skin. My eyes watered with the pain, and I cried out before I could push my face into the carpet to muffle the noise. I was thankful no one else was home to hear me.

I could no longer contain anything, and I groaned in pain, my entire back aching like it was ready to burst. I flung myself face down on my bed, and lay there groaning as my back twitched uncontrollably with the torture.

I couldn't stop myself from screaming, "God, make it stop! Help me! Oh God just MAKE IT STOP!" but it was no use.

For fifteen minutes, I lay wailing in pain, praying for anything to make it stop. I felt like someone was pushing thousands of needs up through my skin from underneath.

My pillow became soaked in tears, and I felt my arms being tickled and thought, _God, not them too. Please, just let me die. I can't take this!_

But as soon as I'd thought this, it all stopped. The pain vanished.

It felt as if there were a heavy weight on my back, pressing me harder into the mattress. I lay there, with my eyes shut, soaking up the peace. I was afraid that if I moved, it would start again. The thought of that nearly made me tear up, but I stopped myself. I forced myself to sit up.

My back felt so heavy, like I could just topple backward, and something was tickling my arms and lower back near my ass. I swatted at it with my hand as I stood up, and my hand rested on something furry. I made a mad dash for the mirror, and stared in disbelief.

My reflection was there, but it was not alone. Fluffy grey wings were there, attached to my back protruding from my skin, fully feathered and folded. It was when I saw this—these enormous grey wings—that everything came flooding back.

It hit me like a hot flash, spreading through my body and clouding my eyes.

I remembered everything.

I could see it all in my mind's eye: Miracle, Heaven, Angel Training, the streets, the walls, the clouds, my Departure.

I could feel the clouds in my lungs as I took a breath in and out.

I remembered who I was: Adam the angel.

I smiled to myself, in the mirror: I remembered!—now I could begin to work on my Mission. I knew who I was, after all this time of not remembering, and it felt amazing, like returning to a past life.

I let out a cry of Joy as I felt my wings spread wide. I felt the unused muscles in my back stretching and waking up, yearning to be tested. I didn't care if I was in the house in my small bedroom—I needed to fly, right that second.

I flapped my wings, knocking over stray objects on my dresser, and I was picked up into the air. My heart leaped as I felt the weight being taken off my feet, my wings stretching, picking me up.

It felt free and surreal to glide around my room. I let out a whoop of Excitement and Joy, and circled my room.

I was in mid-air when I heard my door squeak open, and my dad's voice shoot into the room, piercing my sacred moment of Jubilance. It caught me off guard, and I crashed into my closet door, face-first, and I cried out in surprise.

The pain exploded on my cheek and around my eye only after I'd hit the floor in a heap on my side, and I heard my dad rush over to help me up.

"My God, what the hell were you doing?" he asked, grabbing my arm.

Still holding the right side of my face, I said, "I…uhm…Dad, I…" not knowing how to explain anything, so I just stuttered.

"Testing your face for pain resistance or what?" my Dad said, trying to lift me to my feet.

My first instinct was to panic – didn't he see my wings? Maybe he thought they were a costume… it would make sense, since I was always dressing up as assorted creatures and people. But, as my father's strong arms pulled me up off the carpet, my back felt light again, like my wings weren't there.

I tried to turn my head to glimpse my dad's expression. He took my shoulders and told me to let go of my face, and I obeyed, staring into his eyes. I watched as they searched my face over and over.

"That's gonna be one nasty bruise," my father said, shaking his head, "What were you thinking?"

"I jumped off my bed…" I said meekly, trying not to look him in the eyes so he wouldn't see that I was lying. I was still confused – did he see my wings or not?

My dad turned his head to look at where the bed was compared to my closet door. My bed was all the way on the other side of the room… _fuck_. Busted.

This was confirmed when my dad turned to look at me again, and his "nice try" expression was painted on his face.

"Look at me," my dad ordered, and I did, with large nervous eyes. He stared suspiciously into my eyes. I realized what he was doing.

"I'm not on anything, Dad," I whined at him and tried to twist out of his grip. He didn't seem convinced.

"Then what was with the face-plant into the closet, hm?"

I just stared at him. I mean, what was I supposed to say? He sighed and looked at the ground before standing up.

As he headed for the door, he added, "Just put a shirt on and come down and eat, I brought a pizza home."

I breathed a sigh of relief: he hadn't seen my wings… but why?

I turned around and headed for my shirt that was on the floor near my bed, when I heard my father shout into the room, "Hold it—what the HELL is THAT?!"

I froze. He had seen my wings. Oh my _God_**.**

My mind started racing with excuses to cover up what they were, and I felt a wave of heated fear rush over me. I turned to face my dad.

"No, no, turn around again!" my father commanded. I didn't want to; I was afraid he would touch my wings, so I just took a step back from him toward the wall.

My father was angry now: "I said, turn around!" he yelled, motioning for me to do so with his finger. I was panicking now, and I my eyes hurt from staring at him so widely. I opened my mouth to say something, but before I could, my father grabbed my shoulders and spun me around.

"When the fuck did you get THAT done?!" he hollered in my ear, and I shivered. My father rarely ever yelled at me for anything, so when he did, he was pretty intimidating. I didn't know what he mean by "get that done", so I said, "Get what done?" without thinking. I wanted to slap myself, and I squeezed my eyes shut to prepare for what was coming.

"'GET WHAT DONE'?" my father bellowed at me, "You're going to stand there and pretend you don't know you have a tattoo?! A huge-ass tattoo on your back, I'm pretty damn sure you weren't born with it!"

I was so confused; what was he talking about a tattoo for? I was so frustrated I could have screamed. I didn't have any clue what he was looking at, and if I tried to deny knowing about whatever the hell he was seeing, he's only get more upset, so I quietly muttered a very half-assed "I'm sorry…" and waited for him to say something.

He was just quiet, his firm grip on my shoulders beginning to make my skin ache.

"Stay in your room, I'm going to have your mother deal with this when she gets home."

My dad released my shoulders, and I breathed again, but didn't move a muscle until he'd stood up, left the room, and slammed the door behind himself.

I ran directly to my mirror and tried to see behind me. There were no wings. They'd seemed to have vanished, until I noticed the grey blotch all over my back and shoulder blade.

Getting close to the mirror, my eyes widened in their sockets; instead of big fluffy grey wings, there on my back, was a perfectly detailed tattoo of my light grey wings.


	7. Chapter 7: Unreal: Savanna

Setting: Earth, April 16th, 1997

Savanna's POV

Adam was the sort of person that intrigued me more than others. He had a mysterious quality about him that caught my attention, from the day we'd first met; it seemed like he was always pushing forward, like nothing was enough for him.

The day we'd met, in math class on my 2nd day of school at Mesa Verde Middle School in 7th grade, I had noticed him first and foremost because of his red hair. He was the only redhead boy I'd seen so far at the school, and he reminded me of my sister, Julianne. We'd been seated next to each other, and our hatred of mathematics brought us together.

For the longest time, I'd had the most insane crush on him, and tried desperately to squeeze something out of him about if he'd go with me. He never talked about other girls or having a crush on anyone, so I always hoped somewhere in the back of my mind, that it was because he cared for me the way I cared for him. He even took me to a few school dances, but it never turned into anything. He was walking me home from one of these dances when I finally found out who he was.

We had our arms slung over each other as we sauntered down the sidewalk, Adam a little more than tipsy. Some idiot had snuck a bottle of vodka into the dance and enticed Adam with it, and he couldn't resist.

"You're hawwwttt…" Adam announced in a whiney voice, and I felt my cheeks flush, until I noticed he was pointing at the telephone pole we were passing.

"I'm sure the pole feels the same way, but come on, we need to get home before the cops see us," I gently urged him.

"You feel the same way? Oh, it's meant to beeeeee…" Adam cried happily, and wrapped himself around the pole.

I couldn't help but stand there cracking up like an idiot, slapping my legs in laughter.

He pushed his cheek hard up against the pole, making his face look like a chipmunk.

When I'd finally stopped laughing, I said to him, "Come on, if the cops find us we're going to be in deep shit, now move it!"

"Right, right, I'm going." Adam said, letting go of the pole and putting his arm around my neck, squeezing tighter as we walked.

I squeaked, "Not so tight Adam, I can't breathe," and pulled at his arm.

He looked shocked and apologetic, pulling away and putting his hand over his mouth. It made him look like he was about to vomit every ounce of the vodka in his stomach all over me.

"Oh…mygod…did—did I hurt you?" he asked from behind his hand.

I laughed and hugged him from behind, circling my arms under his so that I was holding onto his shoulders. I whispered in his ear, "Not the way I'd like."

Adam was appalled. He stopped walking and turned to look at me, making the most hilariously disgusted face.

"EWWW, you NASTY! Dirty hoe." He sounded like a black chick now.

"Just walk," I said giggling, letting go of him. The way he said _dirty hoe_ was enough to make me want to act like one. I loved how he was acting so goofy and dramatic; I made a mental note to have him over and get him drunk sometime. I just wanted to kiss him right then and there, push him hard up against a telephone pole and taste him. And, after all, he was a little drunk, maybe he wouldn't remember…

I leaned over to make my move, but got terrified at the last moment, and gave him a big smooch on the cheek instead. So, maybe not as bold as I'd planned… oh well.

"EWW COOTIES!" Adam hollered, and I burst out laughing. "COOTIEEESSS! EW, THIS GIRL HAS COOTIEEES!" he called out into the nearly empty street on our right.

I couldn't keep from laughing, but I wanted him to shut up – if the cops saw us, we'd be in trouble.

"COOTIES! SHE GAVE ME COOTIES!" he shouted to a passing car, pointing at me.

"Shut up, no I didn't! Just walk, in a straight line! ... or try to." I yelled at him between bubbles of laughter.

"Straight lines suck..." Adam mumbled, his light blue-grey eyes wandering left and right aimlessly. "They're so… _straight_. Straight SUCKS." He pointed an accusing finger at me, his hair flopping into his eyes as a car whizzed past.

"Oh my God, Adam just came out of that dirty little closet didn't he?" I shrieked jokingly, faking a shocked expression and batting my hand teasingly at him. We were walking by a huge empty parking lot, and it made me nervous, so I wanted to stop fooling around and really get moving.

Adam was about to reply, when a car pulled up next to us and rolled down its window. The man in the window smiled at us with white teeth. There were barely any cars on the road, so it made me a little nervous.

"Hey, hate to bother you two, but I can't find my way to the apartments on 28th Street. I just drove all the way from Nevada and I got no idea where I'm goin', and I'm moving in there," his dark eyes gleamed at me from under the cover of his car, wide and hopeful. Adam kept walking as the man was talking, stumbling and swaying a bit, leaning on a telephone pole.

I didn't know the way to the apartments on 28th Street any better than the black-haired dude in the car, and I had to keep a hold of Adam before he wandered into the road, so I said to the man, "Oh, I'm sorry, but I dunno how to get there either, I've only lived here for a few years," while stepping closer to Adam and pulling on his shirt collar to make him back away from the road.

The man's face crinkled as he watched Adam smile a cheeky smile at him, and nearly trip over his own feet.

"Somethin' wrong with your friend there?" he questioned me.

"Oh, no he's fine," I said, rushing to think up a lie, "he got his wisdom teeth out earlier, and the anesthesia's not worn off yet." That was a damn good lie – I was pretty proud of myself.

"Good luck finding the apartments," I said, and began to walk away, but the dark-haired man in the blue car wasn't done.

"Well—hey, I could help you out if you want, I aint in no hurry."

He opened the door of the car and started to get out. His expression was a little too happy for my comfort.

"Oh, no, I'm fine, thanks though," I said, starting to panic, and tried to pull Adam along. "C'mon Adam," I urged.

The man didn't seem to care, and kept walking toward us, dressed in black. He looked to be a little on the short side, but he moved faster than lighting. Before I knew whether to scream or run, he'd grabbed my arm and tugged me away from Adam and into the parking lot. I heard Adam make a noise of surprise as he fell backward, having been pulled by my hand still hanging onto his shirt collar.

I wanted to scream, but the man had his fingers wrapped around each of my arms, and was tugging me backward so fast that I was scrambling to keep up with his pace and couldn't catch my breath. It seemed like we'd been backing up for ages, when he finally stopped and threw me onto the pavement. My shoulder hit the ground, and pain shot through my body, and I let out a cry.

"Shut the fuck up," the man hissed, turning me over with one hand and pinning me onto the blacktop by straddling my waist with his thin legs.

_Help!_ I thought, but I was too terrified to say anything. All I could do was lay there and tremble as he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a pocket knife. At the sight of it, I lost it, and started struggling to get away, but I was trapped under his weight and I couldn't pull my wrists free of his grasp, so I ended up wiggling in place like a worm underneath him.

"Please," was all I managed to squeak out.

"You been good so far," he mused, "But if you say one word I'll kill you." He flipped the knife open and held it in his right hand, while grabbing my wrists and holding them above my head. His hand glided down my chest, caressing my left breast as he went.

I tried to breathe, but I was shaking so hard I could barely suck in a breath. All I knew was that I was scared out of my mind, and I couldn't think straight. I squeezed my eyes shut, not wanting to see what came next, and it forced hot tears out of my eyes, and they ran cold down the sides of my face.

Suddenly realizing I was too afraid not to see what was coming, I opened my eyes.

The man was struggling to unbutton my jeans and tug them down my thighs, and the bulge in his jeans suggested they were getting a bit too tight for him. He was staring hungrily at my lower section. The tears poured out of my eyes again, forcing myself to think of what was coming.

_God, just let me die_, I silently begged, _just let it end, please_.

I heard myself whimper, and tried to stifle a sob, but the sudden slap across my face released it from my mouth. I shut my eyes tight again.

Then, suddenly, the weight on my hips was released, and I heard a muffled cry. At first I thought it was my own, but it sounded too masculine to have come from me.

I flicked my eyes open. The man wasn't sitting on me anymore. I turned my head to the side, and found myself staring through Adam's legs. I knew they were his when I saw the shoes; dirty white sneakers he always refused to wash.

Peering past his jeaned legs, I saw the dark-eyed wanna-be rapist kneeling on the ground, clutching his chest and his shoulder, and cursing.

I struggled to push myself up off the ground, and managed to sit up in time to see the man standing up. I was so confused; Adam was drunk – how did he manage to get over here in the first place?

The attempted rapist was still holding onto his pocket knife, and he held it at Adam as he stood up. Still shaking and scared beyond belief, I whimpered without even thinking.

It was enough to distract the man long enough for Adam to reach over and grab the man's wrist. Even though the man was short, he was still a bit taller than Adam, and probably much stronger, which is why it utterly shocked me to see the dark-haired man howl in pain and drop to his knees, releasing the knife – all without Adam doing anything but squeeze his wrist.

When Adam finally let go, he left behind a startling sight: all the skin on the man's wrist where Adam had touched it seemed to have been melted off.

Seeing the blood beginning to drip from the open wound, I instantly emptied the contents of my stomach onto the pavement beside me.

The man on the ground was whimpering in pain now, squeezing his arm below his wound.

I was unable to see Adam's face to get any hints about what he was doing. Maybe it wasn't even Adam? I looked up and saw Adam's tattoo of grey angel wings and a strawberry blond head of hair; it was him alright. But none of this made sense, and I was sick and dizzy and terrified, and still shaking like a leaf.

While I was staring up at Adam, I vaguely saw a quick movement on a lower level: the dark-haired creep reaching for the knife. But Adam's foot beat him to it, and, try as the man might, he couldn't move the knife or Adam's foot one bit.

It was at this point that I started to wonder whether I was just imagining all of this.

And, apparently, the man on the ground was getting nearly the same feelings I was, because he just stared up at Adam, glowering in hatred, pain, and confusion. That thought sickened me, and I nearly vomited again.

Then, all of a sudden, the man exploded up off the ground, lunging at Adam. But he never touched Adam. I didn't need to see it to know it. Why?—because Adam stunned us both.

The instant the pervert moved, Adam's back seemed to explode. Taken by surprise, and being so close to it when it happened, I screamed at the top of my lungs and hid my face. The second I looked up, I swear my jaw hit the ground.

There, attached to Adam's back, were two enormous grey wings.

I had no idea what was going on now.

Someone had put crack in the punch bowl at the dance.

I was asleep in bed at home, dreaming this whole thing.

Hell, even my mother giving me crystal meth in my sleep would have been a reasonable explanation for why I was seeing two huge feathered wings protruding from Adam's back.

The wings were connected where Adam's shoulder blades would have been visible, and they stretched far beyond the width of his body. I could see each individual grey feather, and they all moved slightly as Adam's breathing caused the wings to subtly rise and fall.

Out of instinct, I backed away, unable to tear my eyes off the wings.

I couldn't see past Adam's wings, but I heard the awful man behind them utter, "What… the bloody… fucking… hell."

Without seeing his face, I knew Adam was smirking. I could just feel it.

"What the fuck are you?" the man shrieked, with a mixture of terror and pain in his voice.

I was actually interested in the answer to this question as well, and waited for Adam to respond.

I watched as the wings on Adam's back compressed; closing, and then as they became paper thin, and shrank down, and finally coming to rest on his back.

In the exact image of his tattoo.

I made an uncontrolled noise of shock, somewhere halfway between a whimper and a giggle. It sounded truly pathetic and ridiculous, but I was too stunned to care.

Adam finally answered the man on the ground:

"I am just another person like you, protecting his friend from a rapist."

The man's expression didn't change, he didn't try to stand up or lunge at Adam; he didn't even reach for his knife when Adam took his foot off of it. The only movement he made was his chest rising and falling with his breathing, his mouth hanging open.

Adam turned to face me. He offered me his hand, and I – in my retarded daze – just stared at it blankly.

Adam didn't say anything; he just took me by my shoulders and picked me up off the ground, and took my hand that was dangling at my side.

Any other time I would have been freaking out inside my head, but given all that had just happened, it only added to my theory that I'd imagined all of this. Though, as time would prove, I had not imagined one detail of that night.

Not one.


	8. Chapter 8: Fierce and Free: Adam

**Warning: This chapter contains an intimate male/male scene. Read with own discretion. Enjoy!**

Setting: Earth, October 4th 1999

Adam's POV:

I didn't think about what I was doing. I just knew that I had to do it before I thought about it too much and changed my mind. I kept my head down; my hood pulled over my head, and walked as quickly as I dared, my feet keeping pace with my quickening heartbeat.

When I reached the small building on the end of the block, I checked to make sure there was a green flowerpot on the front step, as I'd been told there would be, and headed up the three steps to the small porch that seemed to be falling apart, and knocked on the door. Paint chipping off the wood broke off just by the rapping of my knuckles.

The door was slowly slid open, and a girl appeared. She had on a red shirt that could barely be even considered clothing—it was badly shredded, and hanging off her body like rags. Her brown hair looked like a cherry bomb had gone off inside it, with glitter spilling out, just with a shake of her hip. Her eyes had so much eyeshadow on them it drowned out any hope of seeing her natural eye color, and had glitter covering the rest of her light brown skin.

She leaned provocatively against the door, smacking on her gum, before saying, "Who are you?"

"Lambert," I said, my hands still in my pockets.

"Mkay, now what's your offer; admission aint free kid," she snarked impatiently, looking behind her.

I pulled my hand out of my pocket quickly, and handed her a small plastic bag. She studied it for a minute, before yelling, "Hey Frankie, light her up!" into the room behind her and tossing the bag somewhere I couldn't see.

She turned around and grabbed my shirt near my shoulder and tugged me hard toward her, as she backed up. The door slammed shut, and I was now inside.

Thinking I was free, I took a step away, but she wasn't done. She wrapped a hand around my neck and grabbed my hair about the back of my neck. It was a sensitive spot for me, and I fought the urge to act like a turtle and scrunch my shoulders to my neck. She put her other hand under my chin, and tilted her head, inspecting me. The strong smell of pot hit me, nearly making me choke on it.

"Hm… you're cute…" she smiled at me, and pressed her mouth to mine. She tasted like stale pot and liquor—not too great of a combination.

I pulled myself off of her, and looked around at the scene in front of me. Everything glowed bright red with the color of nearly all the lights, while a few white disco beads flew around the room. It was hot and humid, the music was just loud enough to hear people, but still be able to lose your mind to it.

Glitter was everywhere, it made me just want to throw it all over myself. I shed my jacket, revealing my shimmering shirt underneath, and strutted in, in my platform heels.

I took a shot from the counter of the bar, and slipped a few bucks onto the table, and walked away, down the back hallway.

I watched as a girl wearing nothing but a too-tight thong was being pressed hard against the wall by a larger man. She moaned loudly, throwing her hands around his neck and in his hair as he caressed her back and licked at her nipples and traced her right breast with his tongue. I had no intention of doing that here. I was here for something way different.

I snatched a beer from the hands of a wandering, drunken whore with a bra hanging loosely around her shoulders and makeup smeared down her face, and swallowed it as quickly as I could, letting the beat of the music control my step.

I stopped at the door to the second to last room at the end of the hallway.

I straightened my back, and pushed the crackling paint job enough for the door to squeak as it flew open.

In the center of the room was a large queen size mattress, torn and tattered, pieces of cloth ripping from it, a brown stain on the corner. It made me wonder what exactly went on here besides just plain old sex. I didn't have to wander for too long; I wasn't clueless. I tried not to stare at it, and moved my eyes to the figure on the bed. A scrawny, pale specimen, about 16 years old or so. He looked so young… I couldn't possibly fuck him. I'd be too afraid to hurt him. He was skin and bones. He was stretched out on the mattress, peering at me with a smirk on his face. He was wearing what looked like a speedo, blue and glittering. I realized I was staring.

"Look all you want, it's free. If you wanna touch though, you gotta come to me, boy."

He was talking to me like I wasn't older and stronger than him, like he was in control of me.

I scowled, and flung myself down on the mattress next to him, and grabbed his shoulder. It was so bony and warm. He literally had no meat on him. I'd hurt him if I tried anything, but I was already here, and my jeans were getting tight.

I wrapped my legs around his, until I was sitting on him. He raised his eyebrows to me. I pulled a wad of bills out of my back pocket, and stuck them in his mouth.

He shut his eyes, tasting the green of the money. His short brown hair was cut too close to his head, and he looked like he'd shaved his eyebrows not that long ago and the hair was just coming back in.

I sat back off of him to tug off my jeans, while he hid the money somewhere in the rips and tears of the mattress.

I was about to drop back down onto him, when he sat up, lightning fast, and put a hand on my chest as a brace, while using his other arm to grab my shoulder and violently flip me over so that I was laying on my back underneath him. He snickered at me.

_What the fuck?_ I thought, and glared up at him.

"So sad, big boy, he whispered to me, looking down at my hard-on, "I dominate this bed. Get ready."

Without thinking, I reached up and grabbed his throat, squeezing, but it didn't wipe the smirk off his face.

"_I_ paid _you_," I snarled at him, "So _I_ dominate this bed. Get used to it."

I wrapped an arm around his bony body and pulled him to mine, and released my chokehold on his neck, rolling myself over with my newly freed hand. Just like that, I was on top.

He licked his lips. I pressed mine into his, letting his taste dance on my tongue. He tasted more like nuts and coffee than pot, which I appreciated. I bit his lip, and he whined, his hard cock rubbing against my stomach. It sent an anxious shiver through me.

The pile of skin and bones beneath my body squirmed and pushed his way backward until he was sitting up against the wall behind the mattress, our erections rubbing together.

He took my chin in his hand and yanked my head off of his lips, and my eyes blazed in anger. I was in charge, not him. I was about to slap his hand away, when he pierced my eyes with his, swampy and wide, and a hand on top of my head shoved my face down, directly at his cock.

"Suck it," he demanded.

I grabbed his cock, and squeezed, and he whined. My hand wrapped around the back of his neck, and I pulled his head closer to mine.

"_I_ make the rules. Shut up if you want me to keep going," I spat at him.

He pushed my hand off his neck and laid his head back.

I tried not to think about what I was about to do. I just had to do it. I had to let these feelings out. I had to do it, because I'd been dying to. Because it was so wrong, it was right, and I wanted to taste a man in my mouth more than anyone could ever know. I had to get that satisfaction. I was hungry for it, wanting it more than anyone could know. I had to become another being. My realistic fantasy I'd been striving for… this was it. Time to find out who I was.

I took his cock hungrily in my mouth, and sucked with passion, my eyes shutting as I soaked up the taste of the man in my mouth. He moaned, and I heard his nails scratching the wall behind him as I deep-throated him.

He wasted no time, and came in my mouth after only a minute. I wasn't used to this, even though I'd been expecting it, and I almost choked on it, before I commanded myself to swallow.

The smaller man's legs wrapped around my head, and I caressed his thighs as I continued to taste him. I opened my eyes to look at him, and the look of pleasure on his face sent a comforting shiver down my spine.

His fingers tangled in my flop of hair, pulling and caressing. _You taste __**so **__good you little bitch_, I thought to myself as I finished him off.

I released him, and reached up, running a finger over his dry lips and whispering "Your turn, bitch," into his ear. He shuddered at my hot breath, and slid away, and I took his former position.

He expertly ran a hand down my cock, sliding it into his mouth, and sucking. The unexpected sensation caused a moan to run across my lips, and my eyes rolled back in my head as he continued. He clearly had more experience than I did. He made it look more passionate than it was.

Wonderful feelings surged through me, and I moaned louder. The moment was ruined as I pictured the little bitch smirking at me loving the way he felt on me.

He instantly made me forget that, by doing something incredibly wonderful with his tongue, and without being able to stop anything, I came in his mouth. An uncontrolled growl came out of me before I could think to stop it, and I grabbed at the wall helplessly as I lay pray to his man's magic tongue.

I was loving this. I didn't want him to stop, aside from the itching in the back of my mind that yearned to taste him again.

Just as I was thinking this, I heard the squeak of the door flying on its hinges, and I flicked my eyes open. A man around 20 years old stood in the doorway, arms crossed. It scared me for a moment – I thought he might be there for me, but, I didn't recognize him. The terrified look on the bony boy between my legs confirmed that the man in the doorway was there for him, not me. Music drifted into the room, thumping and pounding, along with several moans, shouts, and cries.

"Tony… why… uhm…" the boy began.

"Get up. We're leaving," he man growled at the bony kid. He was wearing a black tank top, and his dark hair was so messy a rat could have been living with her family in there and no one would know. His stubble looked badly shave, but yet he was thin, and looked young.

I was suddenly angry at him. I'd paid for more than this, how dare he come in and rip me off!

"Woah, he's not done here," I said sternly to Tony, putting my hand out.

"Sorry kid," the man said, "he already has obligations. To this guy. So I suggest you tug your leotard back on and prance your sorry ass outta this shit hole."

I wanted to stand up and punch him, but he was already leaving, taking the scrawny kid in his arms and shaking him before slapping him, and shutting the door. I spun around and pounded my fists into the mattress, angry as hell.

_Why_, I thought. _Just when I was beginning to go there… to escape… the fuck is wrong with the world._

I pushed my face into the mattress to hide the angry tears burning my eyes. I heard the crinkle of thick paper under my cheekbone. I lifted my head and reached into a hold in the fabric, pulling out my wad of bills. I took back just enough so that I'd still paid for the blowjob, if that scrawny whore ever came back to get his money.

I wiped my face dry, and pulled my clothing back on. But before hurrying out of the room, I turned around and tucked the bills I'd removed back into the mattress. That boy looked so thin that I was sure he could use the extra money, even if he was a little bitch.

I hurried out of the room, down the hallway, stopping to slip my tongue into a random guy's mouth and he groped for my cock, then taking his hair and tossing him back into the crowd, just to taste my freedom one last time.

I strutted out the door of the club, and down the sidewalk.

Fuck the world.

This is who I was. It was who I was meant to be. I didn't care who told me it was wrong, or that I shouldn't.

I was fierce, and I was free.


	9. Chapter 9: Teddy Bear: Savanna

**Setting: Earth, July 13****th****, 2000**

**Savanna's POV**

Now look at me. If this wasn't me acting like a whore, I didn't know what was. I'd finally convinced Adam to come over and get drunk with me.

Ever since that night when I found out Adam was an angel, I'd been dying to have him over and get him drunk, for more than a few reasons.

He'd been so different the last year, starting to dress differently and wear more makeup than he had before. We were out of high school now, so I knew it'd be better to fool around with him when he wasn't under a ton of pressure to finish school.

I wanted to see his wings again. He never let me see them. He told me I was lucky to have seen them once, because he wasn't supposed to show his wings to humans. I always wondered what the purpose of having them was if he never got to show them off.

It was all pretty hard to take in. In my wildest dreams, I never could have imagined that my best friend was an angel, trying to complete his mission.

He told me that he still didn't know what his "Mission" was yet, (he always spelled it like a proper noun for some reason) and that it didn't particularly bother him, but he was curious as to why he couldn't see it by now; most angels saw their mission when they got their wings. The way he described it, he made it sound like it was some sort of vision he'd see when the right moment came, that he couldn't just ask himself the question and have it answered.

It was my hope, that having him over to get him drunk, I could do what I'd been dying to do since that night, including see his wings again. He_was_ drunk that night I saw them, so it seemed like it was worth a shot.

My parents both worked as pharmacists, and were at work until 1:00 in the morning, so we'd have plenty of time.

My doorbell rang, and I rushed to open it.

There was Adam, in all his beauty, with his glittering sweatshirt, hands in his pockets, and his _hair_.

Oh my god. It was _blond_. His luscious red hair, turned blond.

_What has he done!_ I thought to myself as I stared wide-eyed at his hair.

He smiled, and said, "Well, whataya think?"

"It… it's not your _best_ color but… I think I can get used to it. Now get your ass in here," I said, waving him inside the huge door to my house.

He rolled his eyes and followed me in as I lead him into my living room.

Adam never liked my living room. It was all white and cream, with no color but small splashes of brown in the lamp shades and the coffee table, but everything else – the walls, the carpet, the couch, the recliner, the TV stand, the pillows, the mantle above the fireplace – it was all a mixture of white or beige, and it drove him nuts. I liked how sophisticated it looked, but he said it "stifled the flames of expression", whatever that meant.

That was one of the things that was weird about him lately; he was all about self expression and doing things because he wanted to, pretending not to care what anyone thought. It wasn't a bad thing, but it was so different from the Adam I was used to—the one who was shy and down-to-Earth, when he wasn't on stage that is.

On stage, he was never shy; he never held back. It was like he was being transfixed into someone that had always been under his skin, but he never let it out. It gave the illusion that there was another being hiding inside him, screaming to get out. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that he was an angel and had an obligation to Heaven? He never would have told me; he was too quiet about his feelings.

Now, it seemed, he was letting go of the old Adam, and letting New Adam out of his shell. Thrilling and different, but, in a way, I missed who he used to be. He was still my closest friend, just in another form. I was about to make sure I got the full force of this hidden identity within him.

"It's for the musical," Adam said, running a hand through his hair, "My character is a blond."

"Oh, that's right," I remembered, "When're you leaving for Germany?"

Adam sat down on the couch and said, "Next week. I can't wait. It's gonna be so fucking awesome."

I forced a smile. He was leaving for 6 months, and I was going to miss him like crazy. What if he found someone over there in Germany that he liked better than me?

I scolded myself for thinking so immaturely. Adam had been my best friend since the 7th grade, and a few months in Germany wasn't going to change that. If _I_ were the one going to Germany, I wouldn't let that change anything. He wouldn't either.

I had to be happy for him. I was, just not as happy as I should be.

"That's great, I'm so happy for you. This is the kind of thing you need to get you going. People are gonna see you and be like, 'Damn, I need that kid in MY musical'."

"Ha, I don't know about that… it's not a major role. Where's that vodka you promised?" Adam said, smirking at me.

God, that _smirk_. It killed me. The sexy way his lip turned up, the way his eyebrow was raised a bit…

"I'm working on it. My parents hide the key to the liquor closet, I told you. I gotta find it."

"You didn't think you should find it before I drove all the way over here?" he laughed, getting up from the couch to help me look.

I gave him a face, and laughed, "You live five blocks away, I don't think the two minute drive was that grueling," and added, "I've found it a million times before, they hide it in the easiest places."

"Gas costs money you know," Adam said as if giving me some life-shattering information.

"Walking costs nothing but calories," I said in the same mocking tone.

"What are you getting at with that?" Adam said, opening the fridge and unwrapping a piece of pie. Crumbs spilled from his mouth. He looked unbearably cute, like teddy bear, or a chipmunk with its cheeks full.

"Nothing at all…" I said passively, stepping over to wipe the crumbs from his lips and playfully pat his belly, and before he could reply, I added, "Now help me find the key already."

It took only a few minutes of searching before we uncovered the key, not-so-cleverly hidden on the hook behind the calendar hanging on our wall. We unlocked the liquor cabinet and instantly began downing the first bottles our fingers touched. Together we finished an almost entirely full bottle of Puerto Rican rum, and tested several of the savory liquors and vodka my parents had stored for years.

In no time at all, we were drunk out of our minds. In the topsy-turvy world I'd entered, I remember thinking to myself, "It's about damn time we fucked the shit out of each other," followed by Adam's hysterical and bubbly laughter. I'd said it out loud by accident.

He stumbled over to the fridge, opened the door, and promptly collapsed on the bottom shelf, whining irritably about how cold his "pillow" was.

There's a big gap between that memory and my next one, which is of Adam and I both rolling around on the floor, him making noises and wrapping himself in my mother's patchwork quilt, than wiggling about like a caterpillar trying to escape a cocoon.

"I'm an inchworm!" he cried, sliding his face along the floor.

I vaguely remember trying to "mine for coal" in my fireplace, and getting sooty handprints all over my clothing and the carpet.

Adam and I both tried our best at singing a drunken version of Madonna's "Like a Virgin", and it was during that that I remember asking him to "make me not a virgin anymore".

Again I was met with a hilarious eruption of laughter, with Adam pounding his knee with his fist. I was suddenly and unexpectedly infuriated by this, and I heard myself shouting, "The fuck is so funny, bitch?!"

"I'm… Oh my god, I—" here he gasped for air, "I'm GAY!"

There's no specific memory of what I said to him, if anything. There was screaming and crying and cuss words and terribly-aimed punches, but it all ended in Adam lying in the grass outside my yard, and me passing out on the floor near the door after kicking the shit out of it so much that I bruised the bones in my foot.

All the next morning I was too sick to even come close to caring about what Adam had said to me, and I must have puked every ounce of fluid in my entire body. I half expected to finish puking and see my entire digesting tract laying coiled up in the toilet bowl like a drowned snake.

By the time I'd finished throwing up and had taken a decent nap and felt well enough to think straight, I wished I could have vomited by heart right into that toilet and flushed it away along with all the other evidence of the day before. I wished I were still drunk or sick, because nothing could match the heartache I felt. I found myself clinging to the hope that Adam hadn't been telling the truth. That only backfired, because if that were the case, he'd made it up to avoid fucking me, which hurt just as much.

My mind wandered to the fact that Adam was leaving for Germany, and would probably find some hot German guys there, and the thought of him being with anyone else made my heart hurt even more. All the while we'd been best friends, he talked about liking one or two girls, never giving out a name, and now I understood why.

I used to think it was because he secretly liked me, and he was too shy to admit it, but now I realize it was because he'd never liked ANY girls; he'd only liked guys, and had never wanted anyone to know, not even me. That set off another bout of tears, thinking how he didn't even trust his best friend to know that he was gay for all these years.

I'd heard his parents pestering him to get a girlfriend, in a loving and joking way, often glancing at me so that I'd blush and try to cover it by heartily agreeing with his parents or suggesting random girls from our school. But Adam had always brushed it off, saying he preferred being the way he was: "single and rockin' it".

I'd loved the way his parents were predicting us being a couple and even encouraging it, but it hurt every time Adam refused. He wasn't ever very open when it came to his feelings, so I thought I was waiting for him to get up the courage to be open about them to me. And being drunk certainly did it.

In the evening, Adam phoned. Trembling, I answered the telephone and asked him how his hangover was.

"Delicious," Adam snorted.

"Same here," I complained.

"How much do you remember?" he asked me slowly.

I didn't pause or bother to mask the irritation and pain in my voice when I said, "Just enough."

"Ah… like what?" he asked even more hesitantly.

I felt like screaming. Was he really going to make me sit here and tell him that I  
remember him laughing at my request for sex because he doesn't like vagina? Did he really want me to tell him I recall very clearly the moment in which he confessed his love of buttsex to me, more or less?

"Take a wild guess."

"Oh god, Savanna… do… are you mad…?"

"You could say that."

"Look I know it goes against what you believe in. You don't have to like it, you might even hate me for it, but please, Savanna, don't tell anyone."

_That's_ what he was concerned about? He just shattered my whole world, and he's worried about who I'm going to _tell_?

"You're kidding me, right?" I asked him.

"Why would I be kidding? I don't want to lose anyone over this, especially you. You don't have to support me, but as my best friend, I hope you can find it in your heart to love me regardless."

I couldn't hold back the anger anymore.

"OF COURSE I FUCKING LOVE YOU!"

There was a silence on the other end of the phone. Then: "Oh…"

"You wanna take a guess at how long? Hm? Seven FUCKING years."

"Savanna…"

"Only to have you tell me you like it UP THE ASSHOLE!"

"That's not what I—"

"Did it ever occur to you in the SEVEN YEARS we've known each other that I cared for you a tad bit more than 'as a friend'? Did it ever cross your mind that every time I said 'I love you' I meant it as more than a brother? Did you ever think that every time I asked you if there was anyone you loved that I was secretly pleading to God that you would say it was me? Did you ever stop and wonder what I wished for on dandelions and at 11:11 every night? That maybe, just maybe, I was wishing with all my fucking heart that you would love me the way I loved you, for ALL THESE YEARS?"

I was shaking with rage. There was no controlling what spilled out of my mouth.

"I didn't mean to… I thought you—"

"Thought I WHAT? Made goo-goo eyes at you for seven years for NO FUCKING REASON? Well I have—"

"Listen!" he cut me off, "I didn't ask for this shit. I'm sorry if you're hurt, but I never ONCE asked for it. You think I planned this out just to hurt you? You're my best friend; that's the LAST thing I want!"

_He must be fucking retarded_, I thought to myself, _How fucking stupid does he think I am_?

"Don't give me that 'I never asked for it' crap!" I yelled, mocking him, "Quite obviously you did!"

"What are you TALKING about?!" Adam cried.

I was about ready to throw the phone out the window.

"You had to have made the choice SOMEWHERE down the line, so you brought it on yourself, and in turn, brought THIS on ME! And HOW could you not have known that I loved the absolute SHIT out of you?!"

"WOAH woah woah, back up a second!" Adam said in such a tone that I quivered with anger, "It's not a CHOICE I made, Savanna. You don't wake up one morning and go, 'Oh I think I'm going to be gay now'. NOT how it works, sister. I had NO control over this, so I brought NOTHING on you intentionally. And I honestly had no idea; I thought the feelings were mutual here."

"BULL. SHIT. How dare you even call yourself an angel. What the FUCK kind of angel decides he's GAY?!"

"SHUT THE FUCK UP. I CHOSE **NOTHING. **IT WASN'T. A FUCKING. **CHOICE**."

"I'm done with you. I can't believe I wasted seven years of my life on your sorry faggot ass."

I pressed the "END" button.

I immediately wished I hadn't. I burst into tears, sobbing with the intensity of a five year old that'd just torn its teddy bear. I wanted more than anything to re-dial his number and tell him I was sorry, that I loved him, that I forgave him, that he was my whole world and that I couldn't lose him, that I loved him even if he wanted to be gay. But Adam was such a delicate person, even if he remained strong on the outside. I knew my words had cut him deep in his heart, in places no one could reach to fix.

Not even me. He'd never forgive me for saying those things. So I'd never forgive myself.

And so, without realizing it, when I'd pressed that "END" button on the phone, I'd not only been ending our conversation…

I'd also written "THE END" to the story of Adam and I.


	10. Chapter 10: Cold Sweat: Adam

**Setting: Earth, July 2000**

**Adam's POV**

I was aware of someone holding my hand, though I couldn't see their face, and I didn't know their name. All I knew was that this hand was special; that my hand belonged in theirs and theirs in mine. Though he had no face, no voice, nothing to him except his hand, and that was all I needed: to feel his heart through the pulse in his hand. It was like listening to a favorite song: you can feel it coursing through your body, moving your soul as if it could move a mountain.

In my ear, there was a whisper: _Love has no color, baby_.

I began to cry. It had been said so simply, yet with such intensity and passion that it touched my heart. It made me hungry for the soul behind the voice. My tears were not that of sadness, but of the utmost joy. I'd found my Soulmate. He was here, next to me, his hand in mine.

And then, he wasn't.

I could no longer breathe. His hand wasn't there when I reached for it. I frantically felt around in the darkness for him. Without his touch, I began to suffocate, as if he was the air to my fire and I needed him to breathe.

I was dying, slowly, and surely. I opened my wings to fly, but I couldn't pick myself up. Looking at them, my wings were nothing but white, chalky bone, dripping with blood.

I screamed, but nothing came from my mouth.

And then she was there in front of me: Miracle. Her stare was so cold that I froze in my skin, and I found that even shutting my eyes or plugging my ears was impossible; I couldn't move a muscle.

Her glow was intense and pulled tight to her body, an indicator that she was Livid.

She glanced down at her side, and I saw it.

Cerberus.

Fear shot through me so fast that I felt as if I'd been struck by lightning. The sickening three-headed dog was chewing on something fluffy and grey, bits of it stuck in his mouths as he snarled and snapped his powerful jaws, furiously trying to devour what he was eating. I knew without even a moment's hesitation that he was consuming my wings.

Miracle held out her hand, clenched in a fist, holding a long rope that was strung down around Cerberus's necks: his leash. With no change in expression, Miracle dropped it. She didn't blink, her stare didn't falter; her eyes never left mine.

The dog darted away on powerful bulging muscles, and for a few moments, there was nothing. Just empty numbness and Miracle's intimidating stare.

But of course, that didn't last. I heard nothing. I saw nothing. But I felt everything. Still unable to move, my mind was whirling, my world was spinning. Blood was dripping from my chest. Yet I'd not been touched by Cerberus.

My Soulmate had.

I felt his pain, his screams, his cries for help in desperation of reaching me. I willed myself to move, to fight Miracle's freezing stare, to save my Soulmate. The ferocity of the wrenching pain exploded inside me, yet Miracle's gaze held fast.

And then she blinked. I felt my existence collapse. There was no point to moving now. My Soulmate was dead. I felt the hole in my chest where I'd been bleeding. It was his absence that caused it.

I was dead. I could feel the life that had once been in me drain away. Blackness swallowed me.

Instantaneously, I sat bolt upright and found myself in my bed, the sun streaming in through my window. I was overwhelmed with relief, and collapsed backward on my pillow, soaking up the knowledge that I'd only been dreaming. Blood was pounding in my ears, I was shaking in my skin, and I felt as if I'd just stepped out of a hot tub.

Glancing at my naked body, I found I was covered in sweat, yet I was shivering uncontrollably. I was in a cold sweat, I realized, and tossed the covers away and hugged my legs to my chest, attempting to control my shivering without success. The effects of such terror were lingering but slowly being overrun by relief.

But, as cold, sweaty, and relieved as I was, I could hardly enjoy the fact that I had only dreamt that nightmare.

It couldn't have been made any more obvious:

Miracle was trying to warn me.


	11. Chapter 11: The Candy Game: Adam

**Setting: Earth, August 2000**

**Adam's POV**

I perched atop the open roof of the club, eyeing the scene below me. It was like staring into a witch's cauldron. And this cauldron had all the right ingredients for one thing: sex.

Strobe lights, pounding music, alcohol, glitter, the thick scent of pot, and clothing that screamed of indecency. I always loved a big entrance; why not from atop the roof?

Standing on the edge, I shut my eyes. I was a falcon, about to take flight. I let my ears meet the music halfway, felt it enter my heart and soul, felt it surge through me in time with my pulse.

It took over to ignite the angel in me, and I felt myself leap from the edge of the roof and sail downward, through the clouds of smoke and flickering strobe lights, mentally grasping onto each beam of light, using their radiance to give me strength and spark a fire in my soul.

The impact of my feet upon the concrete floor hurt like a bitch, but I barely noticed, as it sent a puff of glitter into the air around my legs. I swept my fingers through the sparkling particles and brushed them through my hair. As I inhaled, I could taste the sex and freedom in the air.

I can correctly state that he "caught" my eye, in every sense of the word; as my eyes wandered, he drew my eyes to him like a magnet. His hips lured me in with claws of candy. I could feel several pairs of eyes following me as I let my feet carry me to him, and it was fuel to the fire.

Strong, lust-filled fingers laced around his waist and let his glory wreak havoc on my body while the music urged us on. My fingers glided down his thighs, feeling his figure beneath them. With his ass grinding into my crotch, I absent-mindedly fought the urge to wrestle him to the ground and fuck him right then and there.

He reached behind himself, entwining his fingers in my hair, and I could have melted under his touch. My pants grew tighter, and the boy turned around to face me. In the brief moment before he kissed me, I was able to drown in his exquisite eyes.

He let my tongue dance with his for only but a moment before releasing me. Without thinking, I reached down and grabbed his cock through his skinny jeans. His eyes blazed, and he threw himself against me. His tongue danced through my mouth, as if searching for something he couldn't find. I inhaled deeply, breathing in the scent of weed and slight hint of sugar.

Still gripping his cock, I was aware that I might be driving the boy wild, judging by how tightly he clenched my hair and how his fingers had made their way down the back of my jeans.

Normally, this is when I'd slow down, take him away, and fuck him until he couldn't scream anymore. But, I was too heavily enjoying the way he tasted, and the way he was searching my mouth as if he were trying to drain my soul out of my tongue. He tasted like sweet alcohol and something else… _glitter_.

If glitter had a taste, it'd be this kid right here.

The boy's nails dug into my ass cheek, and I thrust forward uncontrollably, pressing into him. All I could think was: _Hot DAMN_.

Without warning, I released him altogether. I shot one look into his stunning dark eyes before strutting away. Not turning to look back, I beckoned him with my finger. I knew he was watching me leave, and that he'd follow.

Into one of the curtained rooms in the back is to where he did so. There was a large elaborate bed, covers already messed in evidence of past deeds done there, even though it looked pretty clean.

I've never been anything close to a bodybuilder, but I certainly had enough toned muscle to effortlessly throw the boy down on the bed and tear his clothes off as if they were nothing more than a candy wrapper. His purple hair flopped over his eyes as he lay back, awaiting the inevitable.

My eyes came to rest on his cock, and I whispered, "Well someone's a big boy." My first words to him.

He smirked at me, and I engulfed his cock with my mouth and got to work. I was careful not to bite him, but lightly skimmed the head with my teeth. He let out a soft moan, so enticing that I shivered. I felt him writhing in pleasure, all at the mercy of my tongue.

Caressing his smooth white thighs, I deep-throated him. His moans increased in volume as he laced his fingers in my hair. The harder I sucked, the harder he pulled at my hair. I wondered how this gorgeous son of a bitch had known that my hair was the ticket to getting me to obey. Even from a submissive perspective, he had reigned in some control.

I felt my cock get even harder when he wrapped his beautiful legs around my body, his thighs brushing my ears. I found his hole and eased one finger inside, than another. He was so tight I didn't think I could force a third without spreading his cheeks further.

I swirled my tongue around his cock, a trick I'd picked up and carried with me, and he came in my mouth, and I gratefully swallowed every ounce of cum. It had seemed almost too easy.

Releasing him, I crawled up over him, running my fingers along his outline, feeling his heavy breathing. Each breath in and out was another assurance that he wanted me to follow through. And I would do so gladly.

Laying on top of him, out chests moved up and down in sync, our erections rubbing together. I moaned lightly, and he circled his hand around my neck, pulling me down for a kiss. I wrapped my arms around his soft, thin frame, drunk on the feeling of his skin on mine.

"Stop torturing me…" he moaned on my lips.

That voice.

_That voice._

I knew that voice. That was **_his_** voice. My Soulmate's voice. I'd never forgotten it, and here it was, right in front of me. And this was no dream.

"Stop TORTURING me, dammit!" he moaned louder.

I was ready to cry. I could have dropped to my knees and starting singing praises, as I truly felt in my heart that I was experiencing the most glorious moment of my life. Yet, the praises would have to wait. This was my Soulmate. And it was time to claim him.

"As you wish…" I whispered, my lips grazing his ear. The boy shivered beneath me, as if I'd sent a bolt of electricity through his beautiful body.

I felt his soft hair (that hung as side-bangs over his eyes) on my face, as I gently bit his ear, and he sucked in a deep breath.

I sat up, on my knees, and with little aid from him, I turned his thin body over until he was lying face down. My heart pounded loud enough that I thought for a moment he might hear it. Caressing his thighs all the way up to his ass, I spread his cheeks, forcing two fingers gently inside, one at a time, and then a third. The boy moaned and clutched the sheets in his fingers. His breathing deepened, and the words "Fuck… me…" seemed to melt from his mouth.

Positioning my cock at his hole, I held onto his hips and thrust forward fiercely. He screamed; obviously it had hurt him. I didn't stop though, and his screaming became a mixture of pain and pleasure. I could see the side of his face enough to watch his eyes roll back in his head.

He wasn't the only one in pain.

"So tight… you little bitch…" I said.

I could almost see him smirking at me, even though he'd moved and I could no longer see his face. A few more thrusts, and I'd found his sweet spot, and I positioned my cock to hit it every time. I was in tune with his intense pleasure. I could feel my soul connecting to his, luring him in. Or was it his soul calling to mine?

In this moment of inner connection, it didn't matter; all I knew was that we were alive within one another's hearts.

His pulse under my skin was a song to me, his nails scratching the sheets was a symphony.

Writhing beneath me, a final scream from him was the last I could take before I could no longer control myself.

"Son of a bitch!" the boy moaned fiercely.

Pulling out of him, I saw he didn't bleed. Experienced, he was, as I could have guessed, for he knew how to play this game with all the right cards.

Somehow, through the wavelengths of our bodies and minds, I knew that if I lay down to hold him in my arms all night he would stay without question or worry.

What we have here, is the beginning of love.


	12. Chapter 12: Fury: Miracle

**Setting: Heaven, August 2000**

**Miracle's POV**

How could he. **_How_** could Adam **_do_** this.

This was the price I had to pay for being the Royal Angel. I knew Adam's Destiny. Yet I was compelled to change it; to save him from it.

I was Angry with myself for caring. When an angel made a mistake, it was my job to see that it aligned with their Destiny, and to then move on with teaching the Placements; not to waste time trying to prevent their mistakes. What made Adam so special? Why couldn't I just let him screw up and bring upon him what he deserved? Why couldn't I let him fend for himself? It'd be his own fault in the end: he knew what he was doing was wrong beyond belief.

I'd even_ warned _him. He probably had no clue how much time and energy it took for me to meticulously plan out that dream and make sure that he received it and that it went smoothly. It exhausted me and drained me of energy almost entirely.

And, as Angry with myself as I was for bothering to waste time warning him, I was even _more_ Angry that he had ignored me. I made a humungous attempt at saving him—which I never should have done in the first place—and he blows it off and pretends it never happened.

He was sentencing himself, just as he was supposed to. If only he knew how wrong it was for me to try and help him, how rare of a feat for the Royal Angel to intervene out of the Compassion in her heart for an angel on Earth, maybe then he could have appreciated what I'd done for him.

I considered sending him another dream, to try and make him realize this, but I came to the conclusion that I wouldn't make the same mistake twice. What would happen next would be out of my hands. I just hoped Adam would know this, and that maybe, by some fleeting, non-existent chance, Adam could re-align his Destiny and save himself.

But, unfortunately, Adam's Mission couldn't be completed if that happened, and he wouldn't be able to leave Earth until it was done. So either way: Adam was slowly planning his death, step by step.

Things were going exactly as they should, and for the first time, it made me enormously Unhappy. In fact, it made me Livid enough to cry once more.

_Being the most powerful angel in Heaven means nothing, _I realized, _if I am helpless to save the one I Love_.

With a start, I slapped a hand over my mouth, as if I'd just spoken those words aloud.

_I didn't just think that_.

My Glow tightened around me.

_It's not true_.

I shuddered.

Because it was.

And it made me Furious.


End file.
